


Never Try to Fool a Sandburg

by alyjude_sideburns



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Case Fic, Community: sentinel_thurs, First Time, Humor, M/M, Sentinel Thursday Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-10 09:41:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1158115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyjude_sideburns/pseuds/alyjude_sideburns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally written in 2007 for Sentinel Thursday.  Challenge prompt:  It was a dark and stormy night.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Never Try to Fool a Sandburg

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in 2007 for Sentinel Thursday. Challenge prompt: It was a dark and stormy night.

**Never Try to Fool a Sandburg by Alyjude**

 

To: detjellison@cpd.com  
Cc:  
Subject: Neiner-neiner-neiner  
  
  
 _Dear Jim,  
  
It was a dark and stormy night....  
  
HA! It's anything but a dark and stormy night because this is sunny California and it's the middle of the day. I'm surrounded by a bevy of beauties, the pool is a shimmer of blue and white (if you don't count the huge tiled, pink flamingo on the bottom) and there's a nice breeze to cool the sweat.  
  
In short--heaven.  
  
Heard the weather for you on the way to the hotel: cold and damp is your world. I'm feeling for you, man. Can you hear my sympathetic sigh? Okay, so it's more like raucous laughter, but still....  
  
I know, I know, I should be nicer--kind, compassionate, even. But you know, you had your chance and turned it down. Let it waft by you like an orange-scented California breeze. All right, I haven't seen an orange tree since I arrived, but I bet they're here-somewhere--and that means wafting orange-scented breezes.  
  
Or the stacked beauty next to me uses some kind of orangey cologne. Anyway, sorry if I sound less than kind. Heh.  
  
You know, when I signed up to earn that shiny new detective's badge, I never figured I'd end up serving duty as technical advisor on a cop flick--by *myself*.  
  
Are you, perhaps, sensing a tiny bit of anger on my part? Good for you, you haven't lost your touch. So maybe you can answer one small question for me? Yes? Good.  
  
Why in the **HELL** did you allow Simon to do this to me? To assign me to this ridiculous excuse for an... you know... **ASSIGNMENT**??? I mean, come **ON** , man!  
  
I'm your fucking partner, went through hell to get to that point, sacrificed my hair (which is growing back and NO, I'm NOT cutting it again, asshole!), turned in my nice academic flab for academy muscles (which are **VERY** appreciated here in Hollyweird, by the way) and then, almost first crack out of the barrel, Simon sends me to work on the set of some stupid movie that, no matter what I say or do, will never remotely resemble the life of a cop on the dangerous streets of Cascade (unless they wear a ton of makeup, moussed hair, eyeliner, and shoot to kill every time they turn around).  
  
But I digress.  
  
So why did you let it happen? You could have stopped it. You could have marched into his office and... oh, hell, you know the drill. But no-o-o, you just slap me on the back and say, "Great gig, Chief. Have a ball." And then when the filmmakers head back to California to finish the last three weeks of shooting and ask if my assignment can continue, what does Simon say? "Sure, take him, keep him as long as you like...."  
  
As long as you **LIKE**?!?!?!?!  
  
What the hell was that all about, man?  
  
And what about you? What did you say when I stormed into the loft, complaining loudly and begging you to "Stop the madness, man!"?  
  
"Calm down, Sandburg. It's California for three weeks. It's a vacation--a *paid* vacation. Why the complaining?"  
  
But you know what really gets my goat? The icing on the cake that is my life? The teeny, tiny fact that you and Simon think I'm **STOOPID** , that I'd fall for it.  
  
That I'd go to California.  
  
Got your interest now, don't I?  
  
By the way, have I told you how much I love my new laptop? Thin, lightweight, so portable... and the new WIFI system here in the building? **AWESOME** , man.  
  
Yeah, that's right, turn around... not that way, you idiot. Use those senses, for god's sake. There ya go. This is me, waving. This is me giving you the finger. This is me, angry because you tried to get me out of harm's way when you found out some loser you put behind bars four years ago has escaped and, like they always do, promised to come and 'get you'.  
  
Sheesh, you'd think they'd learn, wouldn't you? Like they could ever get the upper hand--  
  
Anyway, I'm signing off now because the sooner you read this, the sooner you'll get your **ASS** into this break room so that I can tear you a  NEW ONE!  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Blair Sandburg_  
  
*****  
  
Jim closed his eyes, counted to ten, then turned slowly around toward the break room.  
  
Yep, there he is. Waving his middle finger like a red flag for a bull.  
  
Damn. We were so close too. So close to getting away with it. Okay, time to face the music--in this case, the funeral march.  
  
He deleted the email, got up, and headed for the break room and his angry partner.  
  
Maybe he should approach this... on the defensive?  
  
Yeah, yeah, no dead man walking here. No, sir.  
  
***  
  
"Oh, hi, Jim. How's it hanging?"  
  
"Sandburg, so help me--"  
  
"Don't you 'so help me' me, you asshole, you traitor. You... you... **JERK**!"  
  
"Oh, that was good, Sandburg. Real good and totally in line with your exaggerated education. Maybe you'd like to explain why you're not in California when I took you to the airport myself? Saw you get on the plane? Saw the plane take off?"  
  
"Too bad that sentinel sight of yours missed my 'ah-ha' moment twenty minutes into the flight. Too bad you missed the part where the plane landed and I got myself another ticket for another flight coming home. Not such a great sentinel, are you, Jim?"  
  
Recognizing the need for surrender when it hit him on the head, Jim pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. He gave Blair an exasperated shake of his head as he asked, "Chief, what the hell am I going to do with you?"  
  
After powering down his computer, Blair closed the lid, packed it back up and said, "You might try letting me actually _be_ your partner. It'd be such a refreshing change, don't you know?" He leaned over, rested his forearms on the table and, making sure that Jim could see the depth of his anger and the sincerity of his words, added, "I came this close," he put his finger and thumb almost together, "to staying in California and never coming back and I'm this close," he repeated the gesture, "to, once this case is taken care of and Wilson Powell is back behind bars, leaving you in the dust and never looking back."  
  
"Blair, it was for your protection--"  
  
"And believe me, I'm tingling all over with the love, man. But that's not what we're about, is it? We're partners and we work together because that's how it has to be and _you_ have to let me _be_ or this will never work. You've got to start treating me like the real partner that I am, or you'll be alone again and yes, that's a threat." He ran a nervous hand through his hair. "Jim, I can't handle it anymore, this faking me out crap. It's all or nothing."  
  
"I wish I could promise that, Chief. I care too much about you."  
  
"You care about Joel, Brown, Simon, but you let them--"  
  
"Sandburg, don't play dense with me. If we're going to do this, let's do it right. You **know** the way I feel about you isn't even close to the others, or anyone else, for that matter."  
  
Blair reared back and held up both hands as if warding off evil. "Whoa, since when do you turn the lights on, man? You prefer keeping those emotional parts of yourself in the dark. I didn't think you'd ever--"  
  
"Well, guess what? I just did. So sue me for caring about the man I... the man--"  
  
"Evidently the lights are on, but you used the dimmer switch. Can't quite say it, can you, Jim?"  
  
"Oh, shut the fuck up, of course I can. The man I _love_ , all right? Sue me for caring about the man I love. So there."  
  
"Sometimes it's impossible to believe you're almost forty," Blair sighed.  
  
"Does that mean I'm forgiven?"  
  
"Yeah, right. Try that again in say, five years."  
  
"Am I going to have to wait that long for the sex part of our relationship?" Jim asked in a pathetic effort to get Blair's attention off the original sin.  
  
Blair got to his feet, slipped his computer bag over his shoulder and said, "Simon's office-- _now_. You two need to catch me up on Powell. And this isn't negotiable."  
  
Okay, so much for that idea. Evidently Sandburg _can_ avoid thinking about sex for longer than three minutes. With a put-upon sigh, Jim shook his head. "Ain't happening, Chief. Simon saw you a couple of minutes ago and made a strategic retreat."  
  
"Then I guess you'll have to do it. Come on, let's go."  
  
He started for the door even as Jim said, "Has it occurred to you that you disobeyed direct orders, Chief? That maybe you're the one in trouble?"  
  
"Lay another one on me, Jim. Which one of us ran out of the building with his tail between his legs: me or Simon?"  
  
Jim groaned. This was not his day to win at anything. He sure as hell hoped Powell tried killing him tomorrow. His luck was bound to be better.  
  
*****  
  
"So that's it, Chief. Sneaks is pretty reliable so I tend to believe that Powell is here and gunning for me. End of story."  
  
"And the plan?" Blair asked with the typical eyebrow waggle.  
  
When Jim didn't answer immediately, Blair huffed non-existent hair from his eyes and said sarcastically, "Oh, let me guess. You're going to serve yourself up as bait. And when is this baiting supposed to take... oh, never mind. Tonight, of course. I'd be well and truly out of the way and thus it would be easy to set up, right?"  
  
"Why ask? You seem to have all the answers, Sandburg."  
  
"And this is news, how?"  
  
"Yes, it's set up for tonight. But the way my luck is running, I really hope he waits a day or two."  
  
"Har-har. Well, the good news is: I'm your ace-in-the-hole. If Powell's been watching you the way you think he has, then he knows you took your partner and roommate to the airport. So I'm a non-entity to him now."  
  
Jim reached over and knocked on Blair's head. "Hello? Anything but marbles rolling around in there? You're _here_ , Chief. You came back to the PD."  
  
"Man, you really do think I'm stupid. I took a cab to the courthouse and then the ramp across."  
  
Jim leaned back in his chair, arms up, hands clasped behind his head. Grinning, he said, "Guess you're my ace-in-the-hole, Chief."  
  
Blair simply rolled his eyes.  
  
*****  
  
"I should never have listened to you, Jim. Now I'm going to have to watch my back every second," Simon almost whined.  
  
"Wait, are you telling me that you're afraid of a twenty-nine-year-old shrimp with curly hair?"  
  
"Hey, that shrimp carries now. And he's devious _and_ has a memory like an elephant. He'll get his revenge--eventually."  
  
"Yeah? Well, just remember, I'm the one who lives with him. He can get me anytime he wants and when I least expect it."  
  
Looking all the world like a kid caught sneaking cookies out of the cookie jar; Simon rested his chin in his hand and said, "We're toast, Jim."  
  
"We are that, but we're toast with an edge in beating Powell at his own game. And while I hate the very idea, the fact is Sandburg's right. He's our secret weapon right now."  
  
"That makes it even worse. He'll be walking around this place like a peacock if this works. He'll be unbearable to work with; you know that."  
  
Jim couldn't stop the almost prideful grin spreading across his face. "Yeah, I do."  
  
*****  
  
"So if Powell stays true to form, he'll go after Jim at home. We know the kind of research he does and he'll have all of you pegged so any kind of tail is out, but Jim _will_ be wired."  
  
"I still think one of us needs to be inside the apartment, Captain," Megan said.  
  
"Didn't we just have this discussion? Did I miss my own words? He's done his homework, people, and he'll be watching us too."  
  
Simon's ire quickly faded as he smiled slyly. "On the other hand, as it happens, we will have someone inside--an individual Powell believes boarded a plane for California earlier today."  
  
It was kind of fun, Jim thought, to watch his fellow detectives react to that little bit of news.  
  
"Wait, are you saying that Sandy is here?"  
  
"That's exactly what I'm saying, Connor. Although 'here' is a relative term. At the moment, he's headed for the loft via the courthouse. Powell tries anything, and he's toast."  
  
The gang didn't understand why, at that moment, both Simon and Jim started coughing.  
  
*****  
  
You had to love an apartment with so many ways in. Not one, not two, but three fucking doors the guy could access. All right, so two. No way would Powell use the front. Not his MO. You also had to love an idea that put a cop in hiding--in the bathroom, thank you very much---for a God damn sentinel, who could have heard Powell, smelled Powell, and yes, seen Powell before he became a danger.  
  
But hey, at least he was a part of things. That was good. Blair stared at the wall and considered just how good this really was. He was sitting on the toilet seat, in the bathroom, and just might be forced to take on a really bad, bad-guy. A serial killer.  
  
But he was a cop now--this was what he did.  
  
And Jim loved him.  
  
Woohoo.  
  
Speaking of Jim... Blair checked his watch and nodded. Yep, his partner should be on his way home now and, so far, no Powell. He'd have bet the man would have tried to get in, to be in position before now. So tonight....  
  
What the hell?  
  
Blair pulled his gun and moved silently to the door, which he'd left open a crack. There. The sound again.  
  
He recognized it.  
  
The door in his room was opening. He'd know that creak anywhere.  
  
Well, well, what do you know about that. Powell was going for Jim tonight after all. He'd need to remind himself to buy Sneaks a new pair of shoes for this tip.  
  
Blair had been careful to close the bedroom drapes on the window that opened to the hall, so now he moved with great stealth out of the bathroom to flatten himself against the opposing wall, gun arm raised, left hand around right wrist.  
  
He could hear Powell moving inside his room, toward the French doors....  
  
He was ready....  
  
*****  
  
Jim was two blocks away when he heard Blair's heart rate pick up. He cocked his head as he stopped for the red light--and heard the door in Blair's room opening.  
  
"Simon, Powell's inside," he said. There'd be no answer but the troops would be on the move now and only minutes away.  
  
At that precise moment, a building two blocks over--exploded.  
  
The pain was immediate and excruciating, his entire body feeling the explosion as it rolled through the streets and slammed into him.  
  
*****  
  
"What the hell!?" Simon yelled even as he fought his car and finally succeeded in pulling it over to the curb. Once the car was in park, he pulled out his cell.  
  
"Joel, what the--what? Where? Okay, okay, move in on Jim, he's going to need--you are? Good man. Yeah, I'm minutes away. Move everyone in, we may have a cop in trouble."  
  
Other cars had pulled over as a result of the explosion, which, according to Joel, had been a building two blocks south of Jim's loft.  
  
Simon pulled away from the curb, hit the siren and lights, and headed for Prospect. He didn't need to worry about warning Powell now. The entire city was nothing but sirens as police, fire and ambulances made their way to the site of the explosion.  
  
*****  
  
"Jim, Jim, can you hear me?" Joel asked as he placed a hand on Jim's arm.  
  
Lifting his face from his hands, Jim blinked at him and hissed out, "Blair?"  
  
"Everyone's on their way. The explosion was a building on Sycamore."  
  
"Can't hear you... lip reading. Say again."  
  
Joel nodded and repeated everything, but much slower. Then he made a motion with his hand and said carefully, "Move over, I'll drive. Connor's already moving."  
  
Jim nodded, the ringing in his ears already starting to subside. Joel slipped into the seat as he moved and, seconds later, they were moving. Fast.  
  
*****  
  
Simon skidded to a stop in front of the building and seconds before Connor in Joel's car, and Brown and Rafe. He was just getting out and pulling his gun when Joel drove up in Jim's truck.  
  
The sound of sirens still filled the air and a cloud of dark smoke rose up from behind Jim's building. Shocked people were on the sidewalk; most having come out of neighboring buildings after the explosion. He waved at Brown and Rafe, indicated the civilians, and both men understood instantly. They began to move the people away, back into their businesses, homes or vehicles.  
  
Connor had moved, gun ready, to the left side of the lobby door and now waited for further instructions from Simon.  
  
He glanced over at Joel, who was already out of the car and trying to hold Jim back.  
  
Swell, just what he needed--an angry, worried sentinel, who, judging by his actions, couldn't hear a goddamn thing. Joel may have lost a great deal of weight, but he was still a big man and currently had Jim pressed against the building, but that meant this operation was down to--  
  
The lobby door opened and Powell, a bloody and handcuffed Powell, was pushed out by Sandburg.  
  
Blair spotted him and grinned. "Hey, Simon. Guess things didn't go exactly as planned."  
  
Well, if this didn't beat all, Simon thought.  
  
*****  
  
"So the explosion distracted him enough that you were able to take him down, then?" Megan asked from her perch on the edge of Blair's desk.  
  
"You could say that."  
  
Blair leaned over and stared at Jim, who rolled his eyes. "I can hear you, Sandburg. Cut it out."  
  
Resting back in his seat, Blair grinned. "Just making sure. Didn't want you to miss a word of my heroic battle."  
  
"You're going to be impossible to live with, aren't you?"  
  
"Like I haven't always been? I should change now?"  
  
"Good point."  
  
Blair's expression turned somber as he said, "Good thing there were no serious injuries when that gas line blew."  
  
"Yeah," Simon agreed. "Lots of lucky people today, thanks to the renovations the landlord's doing. Most were staying with relatives or friends and the few who weren't yet affected, were still at work. The construction crew was damn lucky too. They'd quit for the day just an hour before the explosion."  
  
Joel, who was standing behind Blair, put his hand on the younger man's shoulder and said, "You did good, Blair."  
  
Twisting around to see him, Blair smiled and said, "Thanks, Joel."  
  
"You're just going to give him a swelled head," Jim groused.  
  
Getting up, Blair said, "On that note, I think I should get you and your headache home."  
  
"Hey, Jim, I can take Hairboy for you. Then no headache," Brown teased.  
  
"You know, I was going to compliment you all, but after that remark, I think I'll just swallow it," Blair said smugly. "Come on, Jim, let's amscray."  
  
Rafe poked Brown in the ribs and hissed out, "I could have used the compliment, Brown."  
  
"Hey, Rafe," Megan said. "You look good in the vest. Regular GQ material." She grinned. "Happy now?"  
  
"Actually, yeah," he said. "And I do?"  
  
Brown bopped him on the back of his head.  
  
"Ow!"  
  
"All right, all right, people. All reports are done, the night shift is on their way in, so Sandburg, take your partner home and I'll see the two of you in the morning."  
  
"Actually, Simon, now that Powell is behind bars, I figured you'd want me to hop a plane and head back to California," Blair said, his expression one of complete innocence.  
  
"Don't push your luck, Chief," Jim warned as he handed his partner his jacket.  
  
"Tall blondes, deep blue pools, palm trees swaying in the breeze, and me, surrounded by--"  
  
Jim pulled him out of the squad room to the laughter of their friends.  
  
*****  
  
"Whoa," Jim said as he walked into the loft.  
  
"Don't worry, I'll have it tidied up by the time you've finished showering, which you're dying to do," Blair assured him, even as he moved to put two of the dining room table chairs upright and back in place.  
  
"Are you sure it was just you and Powell?" Jim asked as he took in the mess.  
  
"Ha-ha. Go on, take the shower and, while you're in there, the aspirin's in the medicine cabinet. I'm also going to call Chow Lee's. You want your usual?"  
  
"Sounds good, Chief," Jim said as he walked toward his partner. "But I'm not the one who's going to be sporting a black eye in the morning... or moving around like an old man thanks to the body bruises. Why don't you take the shower while I tidy up and call Chow Lee's?"  
  
"I'm fine, Jim--"  
  
"Sandburg, I'm a sentinel, remember?" He placed a hand gently on the left side of Blair's face. "You're going to have a real shiner there, partner."  
  
"Mmm...."  
  
Jim ran a thumb tenderly over Blair's cheekbone. "Hurt much?"  
  
"Not at this precise moment. Sentinel hands seem to have... healing powers."  
  
Jim grinned. "You know, maybe we should think about sharing that shower."  
  
"Oh, yeah," Blair agreed.  
  
*****  
  
"What are you thinking right now?" Jim asked lazily.  
  
They were both stretched out on the couch, legs up and on the coffee table. Everything was back in its place, the Chinese food had been ordered, and both were in their robes, feeling content and still a bit boneless.  
  
"I'm thinking... small shower stall and sex aren't nearly as romantic a first time as one would think."  
  
Chuckling, Jim took Blair's hand in his and said, "Thank God for the second time then. Sex on a futon turned out to be considerably better than I would have thought."  
  
"Oh, yeah."  
  
They were silent, enjoying their home, each other, and the moment. Blair could feel his eyes drifting shut when Jim said, "Dinner's here and I'm thinking... we eat upstairs." He got up and, as he headed for the door, added, "Why don't you get the plates and stuff and go on up?"  
  
"I can do that." Blair got to his feet, walked into the kitchen, got a couple of paper plates, napkins, a bottle of wine and two plastic cups. Not fancy, but somehow, just right. As he started for the stairs, Jim was just pulling the money out of his wallet and reaching for the door.  
  
It was really cool living with a sentinel, Blair thought as he headed for Jim's bedroom.  
  
Really cool.  
  
And he supposed it was _their_ bedroom now.  
  
Just as he set the plates on the nightstand and before he could turn on the lamp, a flash of lightening lit the room. It was quickly followed by a peal of thunder.  
  
"Well, what do you know," he said. "It's going to be a dark and stormy night."  
  
The End

 

  
**Disclaimer:** All characters from **The Sentinel** are the property of Pet Fly Productions, Danny Bilson and Paul DeMeo. Characters from any other television show, movie or book are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. We believe the works contained in this archive to be transformative in nature and therefore protected under the 'fair use' provisions of copyright law.

This story archived at <http://asr3.slashzone.org/archive/viewstory.php?sid=1279>


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